The Prince Deceiver (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 6) (5 page)

8

Liandra

Nightmares
plagued the queen. Shadowy fiends with daggered claws and glowing red eyes
chased her through the labyrinth of her dreams. Three times they nearly caught
her, but then a blinding light blazed forth, driving them back. Liandra woke
panting, surprised to find herself safe in the royal bed.

Only a
nightmare,
yet a sheen of sweat dampened her skin.

Rain pattered
the window, the droplets bejeweled by the dawn's pale light.

Or perhaps
her dreams held a warning of dark tidings.
Liandra
shook her head
against the grim thought. In truth, she'd been unsettled ever since losing the
chess match. The loss rankled, she should never have lost that match. The
prince of Ur seemed so young, but his eyes held such depths...perturbing
depths. And then there was his style of play, a ruthless attack, sacrificing
major pieces regardless of convention. She should have won yet somehow the game
became a rout, a stunning defeat.
You played the game of princes...and lost.
Liandra pushed the nagging doubt aside.

Rain drummed
against the windowpane, becoming incessant.

No sense
loitering abed when there was so much to be done. She rang the hand bell for
Lady Sarah and ordered a bath. The water was warm and soothing, but she did not
dally. Rising from the rose-scented water, her women rushed to attend her.
Wielding brushes, paints and powders, they applied her queenly armor. Her dark
hair combed and arranged and studded with diamonds, she chose a plush velvet
gown of deep purple with dagged sleeves and a tightly laced kirtle of seed
pearls. Feminine yet regal, Liandra approved the image in the mirror.

Returning to her
solar, she supped on tea and dried fruits while reviewing her morning
dispatches. Sorting the scrolls by their wax seals, her gaze fastened on the
crossed quill and lightning bolt, the sigil of her shadowmaster.
Robert!
Breaking
the seal, she rushed to read his words.
Rhune is more and less than we
expected. This new queen rules with feminine wiles, seeking to beguile all
supplicants, yet beneath her comely curves lurks a shrewd mind and a keen
ambition. She accepts your offer of truce but says it is too soon to commit to
an alliance, yet she startled when I spoke of the Mordant. I sense she fears
the coming of the Pentacle as we do. Perhaps an alliance will form when the
threat becomes more imminent. I suggest you maintain a correspondence with her.
Perhaps queen to queen, a military alliance can be forged.
He went on to
describe his travels through Lanverness and Rhune, providing factual tidbits
mixed with scintillating gossip. Knowing how she craved details, he spoke of
the state of the land, the commerce on the roads, the farmers in their fields
and the general spirit of her people. Liandra treasured every insight, but she
kept returning to his analysis of Rhune. Like a wave breaking on a rocky shore,
her gaze struck on
comely curves
and
feminine wiles.
So this new
queen was a temptress. Jealousy flared, yet she fought to banish the thought.
After all, it was her idea to send Robert to Rhune. She trusted him like no
other, her shadowmaster, her confidant, her lover. Shaking her head, Liandra
swallowed her unworthy suspicions, striving to be the queen instead of a mere
woman. From the crown's perspective, this change in Rhune suited Lanverness.
Far better to have a vixen queen on her northern border than a rabid religion.
But the woman in her wished Robert was home...and in her bed.

Setting Robert's
missive aside to be reread at a later hour, she reached for the next scroll.
Liandra steadily worked her way through the dispatches. Finally finished, she
perused the ledgers for the royal treasury. Numbers spoke to her, a secret
language of profits and losses, a tale of coins loaned, silvers spent, and
golds earned. Commerce was the lifeblood of her kingdom and the queen gloried
in growing her treasury. Like a vigilant gardener, she tended her investments,
pruning some while watering others. All of her investments were in Lanverness,
and as her investments prospered, so did her kingdom. She discovered a
discrepancy in one of the accounts and made a mental note to determine if it
was an honest mistake or a brazen theft. Good treasurers were hard to find. She
preferred not to lose her latest lord to the dungeons. Finished with the ledger,
she penned a note to the stonemason's guild offering a sizeable bonus for the
swift completion of Pellanor's outer walls. War was an ugly and costly
business, but she'd learned the value of precaution.

Lady Sarah
appeared at the outer doorway. "Majesty, the Lord Sheriff awaits your
pleasure."

The queen looked
up from her scrolls, startled by how much time had passed. Setting quill and
parchment aside, she settled back in her chair. "Show him in."

Her Lord Sheriff
strode into her solar like a breath of spring air. Doffing a broad-brimmed hat
with a feathered plume, he sketched a courtly bow. Ever the dandy, his long red
hair was copper bright, his mustache rapier thin, and his face handsomely
chiseled. Clad in a fashionable doublet of dark velvet, her Lord Sheriff cut a
dapper figure, yet despite his flamboyant style the queen judged him to be both
loyal and shrewd. "Majesty, how may I serve you?"

"We wish a
report on our constable force. Are you successful with your recruiting?"

He hesitated,
still stung by the conscription of half his force to the Rose Army. "The
recruiting...goes well. The Queen's Purse has drawn many to our standard.
"

"And are
they of good quality?"

"A mixed
lot. Many fled the countryside seeking safety in the city. Having tasted life
in Pellanor, they wish to remain but they haven't a trade or a skill to earn a
decent living. A constable's pay exceeds a laborer's wage, so they'll take the
queen's badge and patrol the streets."

"See that
they know our laws and cull any bullies. Those who wear our badge represent our
good name."

"My men are
proud to wear the royal sigil."

"We trust
you to keep our streets safe. Peace and safety are the heralds of prosperity."

"May
Pellanor ever prosper under your reign."

Pleased with his
response, she gave him a gracious smile. "Last we spoke, you planned to
recruit the city urchins, offering them coin to serve as lookouts and informers."

"The Flame
War brought an outbreak of orphans to the city. If the youngsters earn coin
from the Queen's Purse, they're less likely to turn to thievery. And scruffy
urchins oft times make the best spies."

"Spoken
like one of our shadowmen...instead of a constable."

He flashed a
rogue's grin. "Perhaps I've spent too much time with the Master
Archivist."

"Lord
Highgate does have a subtle mind." She struggled to a keep a blush from
rising to her face. "And have you succeeded with the urchins?"

"I've recruited
a dozen. They've proven quite clever at worming their way into unexpected
places."

"And are
they discreet?"

The Sheriff
shrugged. "They're boys, eight and nine years of age, but they soon learn
the value of a steady meal."

"We might
have a task for some of your clever urchins."

He waited.

"We wish to
learn more about the Prince of Ur."

He cocked an
eyebrow. "Do you suspect him of some wrongdoing?"

She gave him a
sharp look. "We are wary and we are cautious, nothing more. The Prince of
Ur is a royal guest, an emissary from a very wealthy trading power. He must be
treated with all due respect...yet we would know more."

"Surely
this is a task for your diplomats and shadowmen?"

"They have
their tasks, but fresh eyes can bring fresh insights. We would see what your
urchins can learn."

He nodded
assent. "Is there anything in particular they should look for?"

The queen
hesitated to voice her concerns. "There is something odd about the
prince...as if he is cloaked in riddles. We like it not. We would learn his
secrets, and thereby, learn the nature of his riddle. Have your urchins keep
watch on his mansion in the city and report anything odd or unusual."

"As you
command." He bowed towards her, offering a gracious sweep of his plumed
hat.

"And, Lord
Sheriff, this task must be discreet. You will speak only to us on this
matter."

He flashed a rogue's
smile. "I welcome any reason to meet with my queen."

The man was a
silver-tongued fox...but the queen enjoyed his company. She offered her ringed
hand. "Bring us word as soon as you've learned anything. No matter how
small or how odd, we wish to hear of it."

He kissed her
ring and then retreated with a flourish of his emerald green cape.

The door closed
behind him and she was alone. The queen toyed with a feathered quill. She missed
Robert, but her Lord Sheriff was a capable man...and a delightful distraction,
but the task she'd set him was a serious one. Ur was a powerful trading
partner...but the prince was a riddle she had yet to plumb.

Lady Sarah
hovered in the doorway. "Majesty, Princess Jemma is here to join you for
the midday meal."

"So
soon?" Light from the window had crept across the floor, marking the
passage of the hours.

"Yes,
majesty."

"A queen's
work is never done."

Lady Sarah gave
her a knowing smile. "And you would have it no other way."

The queen
smiled. "You know us too well. Show the princess to our dining
chamber." Liandra washed her hands in a fingerbowl, scrubbing away the ink
stains, and then entered her small dining chamber. Servants in emerald green
livery snapped to attention. One held a chair as the queen took her customary
seat at the round table.

The table was
set for two, an intimate meal with her protégé. Sunlight streamed through the
diamond-paned windows, sending fractured rainbows dancing across the silver
plate. Everything gleamed and sparkled, befitting the image of the Rose Court.

Princess Jemma
swept into the chamber, dropping to a deep curtsy. Beauty tempered with
restraint, her lustrous black hair was captured in a bun, held in place by a
net of pearls, but otherwise she wore no adornment. Clad in a modest gown of
black velvet, the princess remained in deep mourning. Death had ravaged the
royal house of Navarre with the murder of her kin at the poisoned feast, her
sorrow and loss compounded by the shocking death of her mother. Darkness
reached for Erdhe and Navarre paid a heavy price.

"Come and
join us." Liandra's voice held an unfeigned warmth.

The princess
took a seat opposite the queen. "It is always a pleasure, majesty."

Servants
surrounded the table, offering a simple but tasty repast. Fresh baked bread
with churned butter and a savory broth of onion soup. After pouring the wine,
the servants withdrew, providing the two royals with a rare privacy. Liandra
sipped the soup, impressed with the flavor despite the clarity of the broth.
"What word from Navarre?" The queen savored her time with the
princess, a chance to discuss commerce and kingdoms with a friend, an ally, and
a protégé. Liandra thought of the young woman as her daughter that might have
been.

"Jordan and
the army march at a steady pace. They hope to meet up with Prince Stewart and
the Rose Army somewhere south of the Snowmelt."

The queen
nodded, pleased to confirm the reports from her own shadowmen and military
aids. "We've had word from Prince Stewart. Coronth is a shattered kingdom,
decimated from within by the Flame religion. The people offer no
resistance...but they also offer no succor. The countryside is stripped of food
as if infested by a plague of locusts. We plan to double the supplies sent
north." The queen tore a crust of bread from the loaf, the soft center
still oven-warm, fragrant with the scent of rosemary. "Fortunately, our
roadways are flush with wagons bearing goods from the Delta's seaport and from
Tubor's granaries...but the trade from Navarre has slowed to a trickle."

The princess's
face darkened. "A worry of another sort."

The queen's
interest quickened. "How so? We assumed Navarre needs the supplies for its
own army?"

"The
merchant fleet is still at sea." Her words held a sepulcher tone. "Overdue
by more than three moon turns."

"Storms?"

The princess
shook her head. "If it was only storms, a few ships would limp home...but
my factor writes that the harbor is empty save for fishing skiffs."

Her factor
,
so the young princess sows her own crop of shadowmen. "And does your
factor say why the fleet is so late?"

"No, so I
wrote the king."

"And?"

"He sent
the fleet north on the advice of Jordan...and the Kiralynn monks."

"The
monks?"
The queen set her spoon aside. "This war is more convoluted than we
thought." She pondered the facts. "But why send the fleet north? The
north offers no trade."

"Just
so." Worry plagued the princess's face. "The merchant fleet is the
lifeblood of Navarre."

The queen's
concern deepened. "You must ask the king why he sent the fleet
north."

"I
have...but I've not yet received a reply."

"Then we
are left with another riddle."

"
Another
riddle?"

The princess was
a shrewd player. "Yes, the prince of Ur has come to Pellanor and we find
him wrapped in riddles."

"The
marketplace was agog with his grand entrance to the city."

"What do
our people say?"

"They speak
of bells on his stallion, veiled women riding by his side, and a wagon piled
high with treasure chests. The people are enthralled by the spectacle. A
mysterious prince comes to their city bearing the promise of lavish wealth and
exotic differences. What could be more enticing?"